


Fever and Pie

by cybergirl614



Series: Fever and Pie [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Annoyed Sam, Caring Castiel, Couch Cuddles, Dean Loves Pie, Drunken Confessions, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Humor, Implied Slash, Love Confessions, M/M, Pie, Pre-Slash, Sick Dean, Sick!Dean, Silly Dean, hurt!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 06:17:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3967597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cybergirl614/pseuds/cybergirl614
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is loopy and running a high fever from infected wounds, scaring Sam, who calls Cas for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fever and Pie

 

 

 

Sam opened the door to the room they were staying in, having returned from his trip to the store loaded down with food and supplies they needed.  When he’d left, Dean was lying on the couch stubbornly insisting that he wanted to watch TV. Still, Sam was only gone as long as he had to be, since his brother wasn’t feeling too well.

 

“Sam! Sammy!”  Dean groaned from where he lay on the couch as Sam entered.

“What?  You feelin’ OK?” Sam asked quickly, putting down the grocery bags he had in hand on the table.   

“No, Sammy. I’m so damn hungry,” Dean slurred, wincing as he sat up a bit against the back of the couch.

 

Sam came over to his brother, appraising his appearance.   His skin was alarmingly pale and his face red.  Dean’s hair was matted with sweat that beaded on his forehead. 

 

Sam sighed, feeling Dean’s forehead. When Dean didn’t swat away his hand, he took that as a decidedly bad sign. Even without a thermometer, he could tell Dean was running quite a fever. 

 

“How can you be hungry?  You don't look too good right now,“  Sam shook his head, continuing as Dean lay back languidly, groaning.   “We need to check your wounds. With that fever you’re running, I think you may be getting an infection. Just a sec and I’ll bring you something to take. You may need to go the hospital, or—“

 

“Or Cas,” Dean smiled.   

“What about Cas?” Sam asked, already turning away to go get the aspirin and a glass of water for Dean. 

 

“Call Cas,” Dean insisted, a loopy smile spreading across his fever-flushed face, which Sam observed over his shoulder while he rustled in the bags to get the  pills. 

“Yeah, uh, OK,” Sam replied as he now ran water in a cup he had grabbed.  “I can call Cas. Or you can.”

 

“No, no, I can’t call Cas,” Dean giggled, earning a blanch from Sam.  

Dean _never giggled_. His brain had to be roasting, Sam realized, alarm mounting. 

 

“You…just take this,” Sam insisted, moving to Dean’s side.    He held out the tablets to Dean, who looked at them funnily for a moment before he picked them both up, tossing them back in his mouth with a shaking hand. 

 

Seeing the tremor, Sam lifted the cup to his brother’s mouth for him, telling him to take a swallow.  Dean complied, sputtering a bit on the water.   The cough, though, turned into a laugh, and Dean started mumbling something nonsensical. 

 

“Sammy, Sammy, it’s, it’s got a bone in it,” he laughed.  

The laughter turned back into a shallow, wracking cough, which made Sam cringe. 

 

“Whoah, just hang on there,” Sam murmured, “I’m gonna check your wounds, alright?”     Sam began to lift the shirt and blankets from his brother’s chest so he could access the bandages underneath, but Dean crossed his arms, shaking his head petulantly.

 

“No, Sammy, I’m cold!” he snapped, but that turned into a giggle too, which this time made Sam’s gut sink.

 

“Look I have to check. They’re probably infected, and we have to get you to a hospital—“

 

“No! Call Cassy,” Dean grinned again.  

 

“Cassy?  You mean Cas? God, you’ve really gone off the deep end,” Sam mumbled. “Fine. Will you behave for him?”  

 

“Maybe,” Dean shrugged. “And get me some pie!” he added quickly, in a sharper tone, which provoked another coughing fit, which turned back into laughter.  

 

Sam sighed, squaring his shoulders to try to shake off the relatively superficial annoyance at Dean’s absurd behavior, also trying to quell the far deeper concern that was building.  

 

“Hey, Cas?” he said loudly, looking ceiling-wards.   “Dean’s not feeling so great, he’s got a fever from I guess an infection in those wounds from the other day, and he’s kinda scaring me.  If you can come down and take a look,  well, that’d be great,” Sam proclaimed.  

 

 

Sam turned to look at Dean when he heard what he thought was a squeal.  

 

 _Oh, my God,_ he thought to himself.   Dean was grinning so wide it looked like his skull would split in two, his shaking hands balled into fists that were doing a jittery victory dance in front of his shoulders.

 

“Cassy’s coming! I can tell! He’s almost here!”   Dean declared before another coughing fit brought Sam to his side, easing his hands back to his sides.

 

“Dean.  Please…try to relax, OK?  I hope Cas is coming just like you do, but if he doesn’t, you need to not get too worked up so we can get you to the ER.”   Sam said in a no-nonsense voice.   

 

It didn't seem to work, though.

 

“No.  He’s coming!” Dean protested, crossing his arms again. “My Cassy’s coming.”

 

 

“If you say so,” Sam sighed.   “We’ll wait five minutes. If he’s not here by then, we’re gonna—“

 

Sam broke off as Dean positively squealed, followed by another fit of coughing and the sound of wing flaps. 

 

“Sam,” Castiel said as he appeared in front of the couch.   “I just heard your prayer. Dean’s…” the angel trailed off momentarily.  

 

“Cassy!” Dean exclaimed between coughs, which were now so frequent he was gasping for breath.

 

“Uhm…”  Cas stared blankly for a moment, looking from Sam to Dean and back again.

 

“Yeah, uh, that,” Sam said, raising his voice to be heard over the cacophony of Dean’s incoherent mumblings and coughs. “He needs medical attention. Unless, yknow,  you can—“

 

“Of course,” Castiel nodded quickly, moving to Dean’s side.    He put a hand on Dean’s temple, sighing. 

 

“His wounds are definitely infected. You were right to call me,” Cas  nodded as he accessed his power.  He looked fondly at Dean, his eyes flaring with power for an instant as he pressed his other hand to Dean’s chest too now before removing it, the healing complete.  Dean’s eyelids fluttered as he blinked a bit.  

 

Cas stood watching, still towering over Dean on the couch, who looked around for a few moments, confusion etched in his expression.

 

“Hey, uh, Cas,” he said awkwardly. “What, uh, what’s going on?” 

 

Cas took a seat in the chair positioned at the end of the couch beside Dean.  “You’ve been unwell I presume for the past few days since the tangle with the demon who used the archangel blade on you.  I regret I’m unable to heal those wounds, but Sam called me just a moment ago because you had a high fever and have been behaving…erratically.”  

 

“Erratically?” Dean asked.

 

“Yeah, erratically,” Sam said, sighing as he sat in the chair across from the couch, relief written in his features.

 

“Really? Because I feel great now. I mean, sure, those wounds are still sore, but…”   Dean trailed off, shrugging. “I was really in that bad shape?”

 

“Really. Your fever was so high, you were carrying on and giggling like…”

 

“Like what?”  Dean asked, rolling his eyes.

 

“….Like a teenage girl,” Sam finished, wishing he’d said anything but.  

 

Dean stared at his brother, dumbfounded. “No. You’re kidding,” Dean said.

 

A none-too-well suppressed chuckle from Cas made Dean turn to look at the angel too now. 

 

“No, quit lying, alright? That’s not funny!”   Dean insisted, although his tone only leeched another laugh from Cas, and now one from his brother too.

 

“Actually, now it kind of is,” Sam rolled his eyes.. “You were sick, but you should have heard, how you were going on about how I should call _your Cassy_.”  

 

 

“I do not believe this!” Dean sputtered, looking helplessly to Cas. “Tell me it’s not true!”  

 

“I—it’s true,” he declared in his gravelly tone, his blue eyes wide and sheepish. 

 

“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered. “Well, if the two of you are gonna keep up this pathetic prank, the least you can do is get me something to eat.”

 

“Alright,” Sam nodded, rattling off the list of what he’d bought.   “We have stuff for sandwiches, pears, beer—which you aren’t going to have until you’re a little clearer headed— canned tuna, crackers—“

 

“I don’t want any of that crap,” Dean muttered, grinning.   He was now fully aware of what he was doing, being petulant, and he was enjoying it.   “I really want some pie.”  

 

“We don’t have any,” Sam sighed.

 

“Well, get ready to go to the store, because I want some,” Dean replied, shrugging nonchalantly.    

 

Sam frowned.  “No.  I just got back, and I really don’t want to go shopping again right now. You’ve been a pain the past few days, yknow.  And you’re just getting over healing from the infection and those wounds, so why don’t you eat something a little better for you?”     Sam got up to get   a pear from the refrigerator, but Dean shrugged.

 

“Nah, I’m good.  I mean, if I almost just died I guess something actually tasty is a little much to ask.”  

 

“Yeah, you almost died, and junk food is just so good for your health,” Sam spat back the remark.   

 

“Oh, come on! You know I need food to keep my strength up.”   Dean said, milking the situation for all it was worth.  He attempted puppy eyes, but Sam threw up his hands, making for the door.  

 

“I’m done.  Cas, can you sit with him awhile? It’s been three days of hell.”  

 

 

“I’ll take care of my De— my—him,” Castiel stuttered as he nodded to Sam.  

 

If Sam noticed the slip, or the angel’s face coloring, he ignored it, continuing out the door. 

 

 Dean didn’t seem to notice either, too busy annoying his brother, he shouted,

“And don’t forget my pie!” before the door crashed shut behind Sam. 

 

There was the sound of the Impala’s door slamming shut and the engine starting as Sam pulled away.  

 

Cas and Dean sat in silence for a few moments before Cas spoke up. 

 

“You’ve had him worried,” Cas observed.

 

“Yeah, so?” Dean prodded. 

 

“So…it’s good to see you’re doing better,” Cas offered, clearing his throat awkwardly.  

 

“It’s good to be doing better, too, I guess,” Dean yawned, leaning back more as he stretched his legs as far as they would go, his toes dangling off the far arm of the couch.   His head slid back along  the couch until it rested against the pillow which was slipping away beneath his shoulders.

 

“I am still hungry. Wake me up when he brings me back my pie,” Dean instructed.  

 

“Alright,” Castiel said, watching as Dean’s eyes drifted shut.  He realized Dean looked rather uncomfortable, as he attempted to roll over, but didn’t seem to be able to fully.   Cas stood and helped ease him over onto his side, but the pillow slipped down under his back.

 

Gently, Cas leaned over to move the pillow to cushion Dean’s head better.  But as he did so, Dean shifted in his sleep, trapping Cas’ arm beside him, his fingers clutching it tightly against his chest.

 

Castiel sighed, taking a seat quietly on the edge of the couch beside Dean,, not minding the odd angle he was stuck in.  He could have moved, but didn’t want to disturb Dean. Instead, he watched the man sleep, the quiet breaths in lulling him into a sort of trance as he watched Dean’s chest rise and fall in a simple, hypnotic pattern.  

 

   Dean was close, his body heat soft and diffuse through the angel’s clothing, but present. Present, and alive.  

 

Cas continued watching the human’s breathing, a quiet sense of happiness flooding him.  The fingers of his free hand crept along to touch Dean’s head, where he ran his fingers gently through the sweat-soaked hair, soothing the occasional stirring of his sleep by sending along a mild stream of power to ease what pain he could of Dean’s injuries.  

 

Castiel remained like this, sitting by Dean as the minutes ticked by, turning to hours, although the angel barely registered this. His focus was on the human resting in front of him, his every thought directed thusly.  

 

He noticed eventually that Dean’s breathing was speeding up a little, his heart rate increasing marginally.   He was waking up.

 

“Cas?”   Dean’s voice was hoarse as his eyes opened, rolling off Cas’ arm finally. His arm below the elbow was completely numb, the blood flow coming back into it making it burn.  But Cas didn’t care.   He smiled down as Dean blinked sleepily.

 

“What the hell? Why was I hugging your hand?”   Dean asked as he woke up properly.

 

“You rolled over on it in your sleep,” Castiel said awkwardly. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”  

 

“You didn’t want to disturb me,” Dean echoed. “Alright. That’s…weird, but, alright.”

“I’m sorry if that was…inappropriate,” Castiel said quickly.

 

“No, it’s…OK.  I, uh…” Dean groaned as he tried to sit up a bit. 

 

“Please. Let me help,” Cas said quickly, bracing Dean’s shoulders as he helped him sit up. 

 

Cas paused, sending a little of his power into Dean to help the pain through his hand on Dean’s arm.  

 

“Thanks, that helps,” Dean murmured.

 

 Cas nodded, dropping his hand from Dean’s arm.    “I can maintain that if you wish,” Castiel replied.  

 

“Yeah, that’d be nice,” Dean said, motioning for Cas to sit back beside him.   

 

“You should stay lying down,” Cas observed.  Dean nodded, laying his head on Cas’ chest.  

 

“I wish I could do more,” Cas said quietly.  

 

“Yeah, well, you can’t because of the damn weapon that demon used,” Dean muttered.  “This ain’t too bad, though.”     

 

This earned a smile from Cas, whose fingers found Dean’s hand, making a conduit for the healing energy he sent along in pulses every so often as the pain picked back up. 

 

“Hey, let’s see what’s on TV,” Dean suggested, fishing the remote control from the folds of the blanket he was wrapped in.   He pushed the on button, lazily flipping channels for a while, but nothing interesting was on.

 

Although he wouldn’t have admitted it, Dean didn’t really care what was playing.  He was far happier just sitting with Cas.   

 

When Sam came back, he did a double take at the sight of Dean lying against Cas.

 

“What did I miss?” He asked, rousing Dean and Cas from where they stared at the TV.

 

“What? Oh, we’re watching Food Network,” Dean replied, his expression nonchalant as he stifled a yawn.  

 

“Yes, it’s a very interesting documentary about making pies,” Castiel added. 

“Speaking of pie,” Dean piped up, “Did you get me some?”  

 

 

“No,” Sam frowned, moving closer to note it looked like they were holding hands.   “I checked at the store, but they were out.  Food Network, though, are you sure that’s all I missed?”

 

 

“Man,” Dean grumbled, ignoring Sam’s question. “I really want some pie.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> There is a sequel titled Snark and Pie.


End file.
